Debby's year

Front matter

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Chapter I

Down below in the parlour there was quite a lot of noise. Some one was talking; a strange voice, Debby supposed it was Uncle Mort; yet she could not stir from the upper hallway. It seemed as if she were rooted to her position before the long cheval glass, and the more she looked at herself the more disgusted she became.

‘^Oh, dear!^^ she sighed mournfully, ‘Ho think he has to be so disappointed! Why on earth didnT one of us take after MumsyU’

She giggled as she thought about it, it was too absurd. Seven of them, seven Jannison children, and not one of them with the pretty ways or pretty face of their mother. Why should they all have taken after their father, fine man though he was. It didnT seem fair; Debby giggled again as she thought about it. ‘‘I guess Mumsy felt pretty sore sometimes/’ she said to herself, ‘‘having homely babies every time. Of 'Course she hears up under it pretty well, and no one would ever know from her that she wasn’t just as proud as can be of the whole bunch, but brains aren’t everything in this world, after all. Oh, it is awful to be a Fluffy- Ruffles inside and look like — like — ” she hesitated for a simile. What she meant was to look like a caricature of a school-marm, but she finished instead with the names of two of her sisters; “to look like Helen and Peggy,” she mourned.

But — did she? She bent nearer the mirror. Of course her nose was straight — just like theirs, and her hair was smooth. But when she took otf her glasses — how she hated the things with their ugly horn rims ! — ^her eyes had a twinkle in them, and they really were as blue as a summer lake, and her mouth had a crinkly look — she didn’t know how else to say it, and the corners turned up. Truly, she believed she was the only one of the Seven who had turned-up corners! It wasn’t much, but it was something to be thankful for. With a long sigh she left the mirror and went downstairs.

It was absolutely impossible for Debby to be sober and act as she should. With the best intentions in the world she had started down the stairs at a dignified pace, but before she knew it she was running, and at the bottom of the stairs she gave a jump and landed on the rug that always slid so, and somehow she could not save herself, and so she arrived, her face crimson with mortification and her eyes sparkling with anger at herself, right in the midst of the solemn family party assembled in the parlour to meet Uncle Mort.

Every one was there but father, and of course he had to be at the laboratory with Debison, he ’d have been there if the house was burn-

V

ing up. It was a tremendous honour to be confidential man to Debison, the greatest inventor of the age ; it meant that Daddy was a wonder himself, that probably if Debison had died, or something, he’d go on inventing things himself instead. He had that kind of mind, clever as could be. Of course that didn’t make much money, but there was all kinds of honour in it, and the family was just as proud of him as could he. Only, it made it hard sometimes for Mumsy, with all the family to manage.

Dehby ran into the room; not that she wanted to, but she couldn^t stop herself after the impetus of her slip on the rug. She ran, and hurled herself right at the third button of a conservative grey waistcoat, her little hands outstretched in self-defence. And before she knew it, they were held in a strong, firm grip, a voice that was strange and yet familiar said:

Steady, now; who^s this?’’ and she found herself smiling into the eyes of Uncle Mortimer.

He had nice eyes, the kind an artist ought to have. And he wore nice clothes, with the most wonderful ^creases down the front of his trousers. There was something about him that was a little like Mumsy, too, and his voice was like hers, a laughing voice.

‘‘I’m Debby!” she said, and heard him say above her head to her mother: “Goodness, Helen, couldn’t you have had one a bit like you? I’m overwhelmed at all this — this — ” he waved his hands feebly, trying to find a word to express himself, and then said cleverness,^’ very loud, as if he was ashamed over something.

None of the others smiled, even, but Mumsy laughed out loud.

‘‘They’re good children, Mort,” she said affectionately,” you mustn’t let your artist’s eye run away with you. Who knows, one of my ugly ducklings may astonish the world by her beauty one of these days.”

Her eyes roamed over the room, looking critically at Helen and Peggy, the two eldest girls. They sat on the sofa, their hands folded on their brown tweed skirts, their eyes looking gravely towards their mother’s brother. They hadn’t a curl or a frill between them, and they wore spectacles with horn rims, just as Debby did.

Across from them Harold-William fidgetted and stared, and Jane stood by the window with her eyes round with astonishment. They were all taking in the uncle of whom they had heard so much. Every one wore brown; long ago Mumsy had found a bolt of brown cloth in the attic that had belonged to G-randfather Jannison, and it seemed as if it never would wear out. Brown is a very enduring colour, Debby reflected with a sigh.

Uncle Mort heard the sigh and turned towards her with interest.

^^What is it, Debby U’ he asked, ‘‘what makes you sad? And is Debby your real name, or is it Deborah?’’

‘ ‘ Goodness, no ” ; said Debby briskly. ‘ ‘ I am called after Mr. Debison, you know. It just happened that when I was born he was taking a vacation, so he could think about ordinary things, not inventions. But he’s awfully absent-minded, you know, and he thought I was a boy, so he gave Daddy a hundred dollars to bank for Debison Jannison, and Daddy didn’t even ask Mumsy, but went right otf to the place and registered me with that awful name ! They call me Debby to make it a little better, but it’s terrible, I think, whichever way you look at it. Harold-William would have been proud to have his name, because of course he’s a boy and can stand up under the strain, and he ’s going to be an inventor himself, anyhow ! ’ ’

^ ‘I ’m not ! ^ ’ said Harold-William hotly, ^ ‘I going to be a chemist, an analytical chemist. Miss Know-All/’

^‘Children, children!” said Mrs. Jannison reprovingly, and there was a sudden abashed silence, which Uncle Mort broke hurriedly.

‘‘For Heaven’s sake, Helen, let them be natural. I like to hear kids squabble. ’ ’

“Then you ought to live in our house”; said Debby suddenly, her eyes filled with surprise, “we aren’t any worse than other families, you know, but of course there are things — ”

“Debby!” Peggy said.

“Well, Peggy, there are, and you know it. One’s my hundred dollars; none of the rest have as much money as that. Uncle Mort, and they don’t think I ought to mind about being called Debison. But money doesn’t make up for everything,” she said mournfully.

“When I think what I could do with that hundred dollars — ” began Peggy energetically,” it makes me boil to think that I had to be named Margaret ! If only Mr. Debison had thought about naming me after him, how happy

I should have been. I could have started at Vassar — ’’

Cheeky!’^ muttered Helen, staring at her angrily, ‘^why should you have a hundred more than any of the rest? If you ask me, I think Paignton ought to have it, he ’s the eldest, or Cecilia, she ’s the silliest ! ^ ’

She almost snorted, glaring at her sister, and instantly the room was a babel of voices. The Jannisons might be the brainiest family in the town, but they were not above quarrelling amongst themselves. Quite without meaning to do it, Debby had precipitated a storm, and in the midst of it she looked round ruefully for Cecilia.

When she entered the room, she had thought that the whole family was present, but it dawned upon her now that Paignton — her eldest brother — and Cecilia were both absent. And while of course it was natural for Paignton to be gone — he went to the city every day to business — it was quite another thing to miss Cecilia. Debby started up to ask her mother where ‘ ^ Silly ^ ’ was.

But suddenly she was aware that Uncle Mort was speaking to her again, bending down and dropping his voice so that he seemed to be taking her into his confidence in the most delightful way. ‘‘Say,^^ he said, ‘^who is Cecilia!’^ And then, hardly waiting for her answer, ‘‘we seem to have gotten them started, between us, don^t weV^

“Isn^t it awful r’ said Debby, and then eagerly, “ Cecilia ^s my sister; you have to have a special one, you know, in a family like ours, some one to take your side and think the way you do. Cecilia — she’s the very nicest one of the family, really, though we do all call her Silly. It doesn’t mean anything, you know; every one can’t be quite as clever as all the rest.”

A smile flitted across the handsome face of Mortimer Poole. “The rest?” he asked quizzically, “don’t you put yourself in with them when it comes to brains?”

“Why no”; said Debby honestly, “not exactly. ’ ’ She settled herself to a confidential explanation. Somehow she felt very much at home with this uncle who had been a stranger until a few minutes ago. “You see, it’s this way: I know I look like the others — she could hardly help a sigh at that — ^^and you’re frightfully disappointed in all of us because we aren’t a bit like Mumsy’s family, but I’m not like them inside. Inside — I ’m a regular Fluffy- Euffles ; I love clothes, and candy, and perfume and picture shows and dancing. I want to live in a rainbow and see lovely things every day all my life. But of course I’m awfully hampered, following after the other girls I almost have to pretend to want to be clever, anyhow. They call us the ‘‘clever Jannisons,” you know. If I miss out in a recitation, the teacher is sure to say, ‘oh, Debby, Jane or Peggy would never have done that ! ’ And at school the other girls don’t talk to me much about their new dresses, they think I don’t care. I — ” she flushed a little — “I can’t very well let them know I do, because we are always dressed just alike, in brown. . . . You see, it’s cheaper.”

She ended gravely, as if the statement of the family necessity for economy was something he would perfectly comprehend, and Mortimer Poole nodded his head understandingly.

Of course the child was plain, but there was something altogether out of the ordinary and charming about her that he did not see in the others. As for his sister Helen, she^d been a brick never to let him know all these years what she had been going through. Any one could read the history in her faded, pretty face and the indomitable smile she wore. And these children — these awful, clever children of hers — how had she managed to bring them up? He supposed they adored her, as their father did. And probably they were all just as irresponsible and absent-minded as he was. What a life! Well, he was glad he had enough money to make it at least a little easier for them all. But he was so disappointed he could almost have cried, like a small boy at a party who does not get the cake he has set his heart upon. He had been so lonely, and now that he was back in America after all these years of Europe, he had intended settling down near these young nephews and nieces, and playing fairy godfather. . . . They^d have had a good time if they^d been ordinary youngsters! He smiled a bit ruefully as he felt in his pocket for the bits of pasteboard he had obtained with such infinite trouble that morning. Which of these Jannison children would care for the circus? Why, they ^d be offended at being asked to go ! And then he pictured himself taking them, these learned young things with the brown clothes and the horn rimmed spectacles. Why, if any one saw him he’d never hear the last of it. Frivolous Mortimer Poole — for although he was a great artist he had a frivolous side and he knew it — ^with a lot of grave young relatives who would know the scientific name of every animal in the ring. The thing was too absurd.

Suddenly, he laughed out. Helen, his sister Helen, who still seemed the little sister to him, despite her terrible offspring — turned towards him, inquiringly. The riot was dying down, for the moment at least the matter of the hundred dollars was settled; five pairs of eyes fixed themselves upon him in surprise. He felt himself get hot, and suddenly, a little hand was slipped into his and Hebby was nodding at him reassuringly.

know how you feel, as if you’d crack inside if you didn’t! Don’t mind them, Mumsy knows how it feels, she does it too.’’ And she gave his b^g hand a gentle squeeze.

‘‘Debby, how old are you?’^ said Mortimer Poole suddenly.

‘‘Thirteen tomorrow,” she said, “Ceciha is only twelve, but she is just as tall. — ”

Suddenly, Mortimer Poole stood up, shaking himself free of all the thoughts that had been buzzing in his head ever since he had entered the house half an hour before. An idea had come to him, he was as eager to try it out as could be. He turned towards his sister, holding up a warning hand to prevent her from interrupting him.

“Listen, all you kids,” he said, “I have something to say. Tomorrow you are all coming to the circus with me, every one of you, and — since that is Hebby’s birthday — I will give the whole six of you a hundred dollars each, as her present. She doesn’t need it herself, she already has hers.”

He could not help it, he looked straight at Hebby, looked so searchingly that she flushed a little, wondering why he regarded her like that. It did not enter her head that he was expecting her to show her disappointment, that he did not believe that any little girl could be really happy with a birthday present that took in others and left her out. Her eyes shone as she looked back at him, her cheeks flushed, her smooth hair rumpled.

‘^Oh, Uncle Mort,’’ she cried, “you are the loveliest person in the world. How did you ever happen to think of if? I never had such a gorgeous present before in all my life! Oh, Silly, Silly, we’re going to the circus — ” and she rushed from the room, forgetting once again the slippery rug in the hall and coming down on the floor head first, so that she broke her glasses.

As he rushed to her rescue, reaching her as she rose, laughing and ashamed, from the ignominious position, Mortimer Poole had a shock.

“Why, the child’s beautiful!'' he said aloud. And with a happy grin Debby presented Cecilia, who came reluctantly from behind a pillar in the hall where she had been hiding.

“Uncle Mort, this is my dear Silly!”

Chapter II

Somehow, Hebby had been separated from the others and was coming back from the circus hanging on the arm of Uncle Mort.

It had been the most wonderful evening. For a minute, as she thought about it, she stopped talking and stared ahead at the lights on Broadway. They dazzled her; she had never seen them before at night. Living in New Jersey had its disadvantages, you never could get to see things in the city. Besides, it cost too much ! There was the ferry, and the street car both ends, it couldnT be done under thirty cents with the utmost economy. And of course Mumsy wouldn’t let them go alone, and although the other girls’ mothers had offered to take her and Silly on several different occasions, Hebby had learnt to refuse the offer politely and say nothing about it at home. Mumsy simply hadn’t the money to spare for them, and Hebby hated to see her grieved look as she explained this.

^‘Debby dear/’ she had said, sitting down in her worn old rocker and taking the small brown hand in hers, ‘4t hurts me to have to refuse such a simple little pleasure, but I simply cannot do it, honey. You know, I could not let Mrs. Thatcher pay for you and Silly, and circus tickets are so expensive, and then there ’s the journey — this is the month your father’s insurance falls due, you know. We must scrape every cent for that. But I feel as if I were defrauding you, my own little girl, keeping you from a simple pleasure like that. When I was your age I always went to the circus with Mortimer and Papa — ” she had broken otf, sighing.

For a moment Debby had felt a little pang, but almost instantly she had thrown herself, a worshipful heap, on her mother’s lap.

‘‘Listen, Mumsy,” she had said, “don’t you think it’s lots more fun to have a large family like ours, than to go to circuses with just a brother? Brothers are awfully snippy, anyhow, to girls!”

“Mine wasn’t!” Mrs. Jannison had said, but she had laughed and hugged Deb^by in the dear way that was hers alone, and that had been the only time that the subject had ever come np. But just to think that Uncle Mort had struck the very thing that she and Silly had been longing to do for years ! Hardly knowing what she was doing — she was so busy thinking about it — Debby squeezed the arm she held.

Mortimer Poole looked down from his height and smiled. It was a crinkly kind of smile, the sort that few people have. Seeing it, Debby squeezed the arm again, harder, and gave a little skip as she began to talk once more, her voice a trifle lyeathless.

Uncle Mort, how did you know we wanted to go to the circus so tremendously?^^

^Hfll tell you the truth, Debby, Mortimer ^s eyes twinkled; didn^t; but I wanted to go myself

The soft sparkling eyes met his inquiringly. This was something that Debby could hardly understand. All the grown persons she had known had made a point of saying that they were going to the circus to please the children ; apparently they never wished to go themselves. But why any one — even if they were eighty years old — should not long to see all the gorgeous things the circus had to show, Dehby could not imagine. She left the question to be settled later, and swung into a curious imitation of her uncle ’s long stride.

‘^Well, what did you like bestT’ said he.

There had been a performing elephant that Dehby had adored. She couldn’t exactly explain why. ^^He was so clumsy and so dear/^ she said, and discussed the antics of the clown with animation. It amazed her to learn that clowns could be very famous. In Paris, Uncle Mort told her, he had met Coquin, then an old man. In the artists’ colony they had almost paid him homage. At all the parties he had been treated like a king, and he always did something — a new trick or two or some of the famous old ones — to make the hours a success.

‘‘He was really a person!’^ Mortimer Poole said.

Debby considered that phrase, and then she gave another little skip. She had forgotten all about the others, even about Silly, for she knew she was all right, since she was walking with Mumsy and Jane. To her it seemed as if she and Uncle Mort were alone in a kind of Christmas-tree world, where everything was bright and shining and different.

^‘That^s what 1 am going to be^^; she said.

‘‘Whatr^

— a person!’^

Well, Mortimer Poole told himself, it was likely she would be, she ’d be different, anyhow.

He remembered her delighted laughter at the entertainment they had just left, her wholehearted enjoyment of every moment, the quickness of thought that had made her amusement, in all that vast assembly, just a flash more rapid than any one’s. But he did not put this into words, of course; all he said was, in a tone of confidential curiosity: ‘‘How?”

Hebby hesitated. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said with sudden embarassment, “it sounds so stupid when I say that. Helen or Peggy would have known in a minute, they are awfully decided about things, you know. But of course I can ’t compare myself with them when it comes to trains. I haven’t any, really, not the Jannison kind. What I want to do is to be an artist or an actress or something pretty. I want to live in a lovely house, the kind you and

Mumsy lived in when yon were little — she has often told me ahont it — and wear lovely clothes and meet persons, I don’t suppose I ever shall, though. Mumsy thinks I might be a school teacher if I study hard enough. I’d much rather h^e a milliner, only she doesn’t like me to say that. I can trim hats, you know, I often do Silly’s and mine. The others don’t care much to have me touch theirs. Mumsy let me do her best toque, though, last winter. It would have been lovely if I ’d had more velvet. ’ ’

That wistful little tone, and all for a yard of velvet! Mortimer Poole, man of the world though he was, could hardly keep the note of sympathy out of his voice. He changed the subject hurriedly, because he could not keep himself from saying something about school teachers and milliners in an indignant voice, if he didn’t.

^‘Debhy, we’re going back there now, you know, back to the old house where Helen and I used to live. Your birthday supper is all ready for you. Will you like that ? ’ ’

He had asked her not to wear her glasses, that evening when they were starting out, and she had answered him frankly that she couldn^t, anyhow, because she had broken them and they were not mended. So her eyes were not hidden from him as she replied demurely enough that it would be lovely to see the old home, and he caught the gleam of sheer joy that gave depth and sparkle to their blueness. Somehow it made him very happy, a happiness out of all proportion to the thing he was doing. What was it, after all, but giving pleasure to a child ? He could have done it all these years if he had ever thought about it. A box from Paris, from Vienna, from Florence or Rome or Madrid, what a gift like that would have meant to little Debby! Well, he sighed to himself, he had been too absorbed in himself and his work to even think of it. He had not even offered the old home when he had bought it back from the owners who had taken it over intact, furniture, servants and everything — ^with the same old butler and the same housekeeper who had watched over his own childhood — to his sister and her children. That would have been little enough to do, surely, and how much better it would have been than the little shingled house in New Jersey, right at the shabby end of the town on the edge of the woods. That house on West Seventy-Second Street, close to the Drive and with the view of the Hudson, would at least have placed them amongst their social equals. As it was — he recalled with a feeling of disdain the children he had seen playing near the Jannison house. Why, they were miles beneath Debby.

He thought nothing of the others. They might be nice children, he believed they were. Paignton, for instance, had seemed a clean-cut, charming lad, in the few moments’ conversation they had had tonight, and he had no doubt that they were all as clever as their father. But they simply did not appeal to him, that was all. If he had been a father himself, he reflected, he would have been tremendously disappointed if his family had turned out like that. But then, one Debby would make up for six of the other kind.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. It was so big that it took his breath away for a minute, and he looked, like little Debby by his side, away up at the white lights of the most brilliantly lighted street in the world, as he thought it out. He hardly heard the chatter of the merry voice at his side, knew nothing of the sounds going on all around him. He was filled with an intense longing for companionship, for the delights of a child — rapidly growing into a lovely girl — ^beside him all the time. After all, why not? Would there be anything so out of the way in it, after all? He was rich and a bachelor, he had social position and fame. Debby was his sister ^s child, and already he loved her. With six others, how could Helen miss this one? He made up liis mind suddenly that he was going to get what he wanted, he was going to adopt Debby, make her his daughter. After all, though he was a man in the prime of life only, there was no chance that he would ever marry. A shade came over his handsome face as he thought this, and a weary expression to his eyes. Debby, looking up at him, touched his hand with a timidly caressing gesture.

Uncle Mort, you look as if you wanted a little bit of petting

He stopped, laughing, and hailed a taxi, then motioned to another that was also passing. ‘‘You^re right, Debby, I do. Perhaps you can give it to me.’’

He bundled her into the first taxi, and caught hold of Cecilia’s hand as she came up with her mother and Jane. ‘‘You get in here. Silly, with Debby, and get the other kids. You will fill these two cabs, I guess.” He admired the way in which Paignton took hold of the situation and helped the brothers and sisters into the vehicles. With a motion of his cane he attracted another taxicab and helped his sister into it with formal politeness.

“I want to talk to you, Helen,” he explained, giving the address to the drivers and watching the cabs slide off from the curb.” And I am sure you’re tired too, aren’t you? The children had seen quite enough of Broadway at night, anyhow.”

“Yes,” she said, leaning her little head back against the comer of the cab and looking absurdly young and happy, “I suppose they had, Mort dear, but you can’t imagine what a treat this is; they had none of them ever been to a circus before.”

‘^Debby told me,^^ he said shortly, and lapsed into silence. Then with an effort he roused himself, taking his sister’s hand. Helen, you have so many, can’t you give a lonely man one of your girls? I want to adopt Debby.”

‘^Defcjby?” she caught at her heart. But her voice was quite calm and collected as she went on talking. Debby, she explained, was just at the age when she really needed her mother. One of the others — the bigger girls —

But Mortimer Poole shook his handsome head obstinately. It was Debby he wanted, not any one else. Helen and Peggy were charming, of course — he did not see his sister wince at the cynical tone — but they were not what he wanted. Debby was more like their mother at her age.

And suddenly, he stopped explaining. He just sat there, miserably, unable to say a word, looking at Helen Jannison with the eyes that she had never been able to resist in her brother when they both were children. She thought of the girl who had treated him so badly that he had never felt that he could marry any one else, and her mouth softened. Poor old Mortimer, he was lonely. But how could she give little

Debby up to himi Would it be for the child good?

‘^You don’t care for my other children, Mort f ’ ’ she asked him, with almost the wistfulness of Debby herself. ‘^They aren’t just the sort of children I thought I should have, myself, but they have hearts of gold, and some day you are going to be very proud of being related to them.” The little head took a proud toss upward. Then she questioned, leaning towards him with her eyes very earnest, ‘ ‘ Debby thought you admired Cecilia?”